Swap
by sunnybutt
Summary: Bowser launches a daring assault on Peach's Castle and grabs him a Princess! Shame, really, that he grabbed the wrong one.
1. Chapter 1

Hyrule is a large and prosperous nation. To most of her residents, Hyrule is the entire world. There is little commercial traffic, and the nominal borders of the kingdom stretch far beyond the most inhabited areas.

It is not alone in the world. Not by any means.

The southernmost region of Hyrule, a province called Ordona, has one road heading further south. Follow this road for about ninety miles, and after a rather unpleasant blurry feeling as you step between realities, you find yourself in a place called the Forset of Illusion. Follow the road as it turns west and you will reach the eastern border of the Mushroom Kingdom.

Most transient visitors to Hyrule – such as you or I – visit at times of tremendous crisis. These are all very dramatic, and certainly the most important times in the lifespan of a nation. In between, however, we can sometimes find a little entertainment.

It was a few years after a rather unhappy episode in Hylian history. Most people didn't know what the hell happened, actually, only that they all lost about a week and that there was two more weeks when the countryside was murderously dangerous, and then some green shmuck ridden on a horse and everything was back to normal. Such as it was, anyway. You and I might refer to this as "The Twilight Princess Saga."

Life continued, and the business of state continued. Zelda Harkinian, Soveriegn Princess of Hyrule, was holding court in the Palace. It was a good day; the place was empty. Tradition demanded she hold court, but she had a folding desk set up and a basket of tiny sandwiches brought in from the kitchens so she could keep working. The Great Hall, with whitestone pillars and a great red carpet, with the statuary of godesses and kings lining the walls, echoed with the sound of scribbling and muttered curses. Her Majesty was tallying payroll checks and comparing them to tax revenues, and seeing an unpleasantly small number.

Her Chief Minister, Monseur Belerand, oiled up to her from behind the Sacred Throne. He was tall and spindly, in a sharp black suit, and he exuded efficentcy and low-grade insomnia. "Ahem," he said.

Zelda closed her eyes and put her pen into the quillstand. It drooped. "You may speak, Minister Belerand." _Nayru knows I couldn't stop you,_ she added to herself.

"Aha, Her Majesty is well aware that we, we might retain any number of professionals who could handle the, mmm, the elements of her work that she clearly finds so unpleasant." Monseur Belerand polished a button and looked hopeful.

Zelda opened her eyes and glared at Belerand. Glaring was her usual expression, but now she looked like a hawk with a case of amphetamine disassociation. "You mean, I should let you manage the kingdom's finances, and spend my time riding horses, or singing in the countryside, or arranging flowers on a balcony where I can be easily seen but just out of easy bow-shot, yes? Is that about right?"

"Ahem," said Belerand, somewhat hesitantly this time. "I am, mm, only considering Her Majesty's well-being."

Zelda closed her eyes again and pinched the bridge of her nose between a pair of exquisite white-gloved fingertips. "We should not snap at you, Belerand, and we appreciate your intent. The past years have been difficult, and we were not of a trusting character to begin with."

Belerand bowed. "Perhaps Her Majesty would appreciate my news. An emmisary from our southwestern neighbor has arrived. He shall invite you to a state visit. Her Majesty might consider accepting." _Her Majesty might consider a tryst with that young goatherd she's been spying on along the way,_ Belerand was wise enough not to add. _Her Majesty should not doodle his picture in the margins of her Edicts if she does not want her feelings known._

"Very well," said Zelda, pushing the little table aside. "Send him in." Belerand scooted back around the throne.

The great doors opened. About twenty heralds appeared from behind pillars, trying to put their livery back on straight and some stomping out cigarettes. They played the official fanfare of Hyrule, and a tiny little person with a great white hat marched in. It wobbled, and had five big red polka-dots. He wore what looked like a diaper and a embroidered blue vest.

"From Hear Marjesty Theah Prieencess Peach-Toadstool hof thea Maashroom Kingdom," drawled the little man at the top of his lungs, "Toah Hear Marjesty Zelda Harkinian hof thea Kingdom hof Hyrule: Greahteengs." He took a big breath. His voice was squeaky-raspy. "Houah great nations harve bean neighbors foa mahny yeas, hand it his Hear Marjesty's vearah great pleaasure to invite Hear Marjesty to a feast hand gala, having the purpose of a DINNER OF STATE, to discuss such matters has hare relevant to hour moochual prosperitah hand securitah."

Zelda nodded to the Mushroom Herald. "We appreciate the kind invitation of our friend and ally the Princess Peach-Toadstool," she said in her most regal tones. "Considering that" _we have nothing better to do_ "we have no other business, we shall be pleased to offer our response before the day has ended. You may go."

The little Toad bowed his way back out the great doors, and the Hylian Heralds crawled back into their holes. Monseur Belerand reappeared.

"Her Majesty is considering refusing the offer?"

Zelda rubbed her temple. "Her Majesty is wondering if she could solve two problems at once. Tell me, are there any Mushroom Kingdom trade goods we could slap a heavy tariff on?"

"Well," said Monseur Belerand, "There are several mycological products, the most popular of which, well, I am, aha, uncomfortable to say."

"I insist you explain."

"Well," said Belerand, shifting a little, "A certain mushroom is considered, it is, aha, it is rumored to, not to put too fine a point on it, to um." Zelda rolled her wrist. "To um. To um, aha, to increase – so go the reports anyway, to increase a man's, um."

Zelda pulled the folding desk back over and put her head on it. "His Um, Minister?"

"His, um, aha, his _size_ , Your Majesty."

The Princess looked up and glared at the middle distance. "His size?"

The Chief Minister was full-on fidgeting now. "Indeed, his size."

Zelda licked her lips with the speed of a snake. "Do these reports, these _rumors_ , do they specify by how much they increase a person's size?"

"They are doubled, if my information is correct."

Zelda lifted an sculpted eyebrow. "Those will be very popular."

* * *

Hyrule has many periods of peace and ordinary life, punctuated by periods of crisis. Samus Aran, on the other had, lives through long periods of relaxing mortal danger, punctuated by terrifying instants of intense safety.

The cockpit of her gunship was lit up with hundreds of warning lights. Each was an alert about a critical system failure, or damage to life-support, or incoming enemy fire. Space was filled with blasts of deadly light and the hunger of homing missiles. All in perfect vacuum silence, since the cabin had depressurized.

Samus had been Interdicted, pulled out of hyperspeed by a Space Pirate cruiser. It had sealed all hatches and trained all guns on her position. The Hunter had become the hunted, and Samus was doing something she had rarely done before. She was running and hiding. The planet below was green and blue, which was a great place to start. She angled down into the atmosphere and shifted all power to her rear shields. It would have to be enough, and -

It wasn't.

She was at fifty thousand feet when the missiles caugh up to her. She could outrun Pirate fighters and drop ships, especially in atmosphere, but their rockets had been engineered from Chozo missile technology. It was loud, so loud now, with screaming metal and roaring engines. Her ship flashed a final message across her readout:

CRITICAL FAILURE OF ALL SYSTEMS/ ||

CHASSIS BREAKUP IMMANENT/ ||

RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE EJECTION/ ||

GOODBYE/ ||

Samus tugged on a little handle. All was silent once more. She was too small, even in her Power Suit, for the remaining missiles to target. They followed her ship and turned it to so much irradiated dust and shrapnel.

Her suit had some thruster ability, but not enough to stabilize a fall from fourty-five thousand feet. And her ejection chair was designed for hard vacuum, with a magnetic oxygen containment field, thermal lining, and a sort of solar sail that was useless as a parachute. It was going to be a long fourty thousand feet to the forest floor.

Samus reflected, which she was also not accustomed to doing. She had gone from cruising the galaxy, thumbing for a hitch, to falling to what was possibly her death on a planet she knew nothing about. From thirty-five thousand feet, at least, it looked pretty nice, but so had Zebes and Tallon IV. And it had happened fast, too, with virtually no warning. Samus was not an ace pilot by any means. She would have to become one, especially if the Pirates could just _grab_ you out of faster-than-light travel, like _that_. She snapped her fingers to punctuate the thought.

She could see, when her uncontrolled tumble allowed, Pirate drop ships entering the atmosphere. Coming to finish the job, or to claim any loot the remaining thirty thousand feet left intact. First came the rage, the roiling hatred for their kind. They had done nothing but stalk and kill their way across the galaxy. Then came disappointment – she had stalked and killed them across the galaxy, and here they were.

Twenty-five thousand feet now.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrogg, Flogg, and Gnogg had caught themselves a brace of rabbits. It hadn't been easy.

* * *

"Quiet now, Flogg!" said Mrogg, perhaps a bit more loudly than he'd intended. "Bunny sniffs at trap." A rabbit was investigating lump of carrot that Gnogg had affixed to a tripwire. It delicately leaned forward and gave the orange lump an experimental nibble. Then it snatched the morsel and hopped away. Moments later there was a _crack_. A springy branch came free, with Gnogg on the end of it. It bent around the other way, pointing toward the bait-spot. Gnogg whacked it with his club.

"Yahyahyahyahyah!" shouted Gnogg. He hung there, bouncing slightly in the breeze. "Did I get it?" he asked. His eyes were squeezed tight.

"You missed!" shouted Flogg. "Gnogg a stupid bokoblin!" He stood and hurled some dead leaves.

"Mrogg have idea!" Mrogg jumped up and down. "Shut up sillies, Listen to Mrogg idea." He squinted at his compadres and raised his hands dramatically. "Trap need _more dakka._ "

* * *

The bunny wasn't stupid. He knew the bokoblins were there. He'd known since they'd entered his woods, golly, _everybeast_ knew. They were like walking middens. But life had to go on, didn't it? It wasn't like there weren't owls, foxes, badgers and even _wolves_ in the forest before. So he did his best – wait. The bunny sniffed the air. My, that was good. He bopped away to investigate. At the foot of a tall tree were a handful of other bunnies. He forced his way through to see what they were looking at. Why, it was some wild cannabis!

The bunny shrugged. The stuff was good, so why not? He took a big mouthful.

Somehow, Mrogg had gotten a big rock up the tree. He'd had to rig a pulley arrangement. Flogg's arm had gotten stuck in the ropes, so he hung there, swaying quietly.

"Now, Mrogg!" whispered Gnogg.

"Hrrmph!" grunted Mrogg. He hoisted the rock into the air, took a few wobbly steps, and slowly fell off the tree branch. "Waaaaahh!~" _Thump_.

"Mrogg genius!" cheered Flogg. "Mrogg get many bunnies! Now get Flogg down!"

Most of the bunnies had been reduced to a sort of paste, which Flogg scraped up into a cracked clay jar. When the other bokoblins asked him about it he only muttered cryptically about "Mama sauce." In the meanwhile Gnogg set up a cooking fire. He hummed a roasting song.

" _There once was a bunny I roasted,_

 _What was tasty and spicily toasted._

 _So grumble and howl_

 _Let your tummy growl_

 _And hear all the meals I have boasted."_

Bokoblins are a sort of goblin, green and short (about four feet tall) and ravenous. They give the impression of idiocy. After all, they are impulsive, ill-educated, and undisciplined. They do have a knack for artifice and figuring, though. The current fashion was for cloth wrappings and animal hides, with all the teeth they could find.

"Say, Mrogg," said Gnogg, "I have question."

Mrogg rubbed his hands together, then delicately threaded a bunny onto his spit-stick. "Shoot."

"Is question about new weapon." Mrogg and Flogg gave Gnogg their full attention. Gnogg's ideas usually failed but were always entertaining. "How can make weapon that shoots _fire?_ "

This was one of the age old puzzles. The Fire Problem was something almost every bokoblin tried to solve once in his life. It was usually the _last_ problem he tried to solve. But it was the question, wasn't it? If you could make fire over there but not here, you could burn anyone. Who wouldn't want to burn anyone?

"Oil," said Flogg. "Throw oil lamp."

"Not work," said Mrogg. "Oil lamp maybe make a _little_ fire. Not big enough fire."

"So throw _big_ oil lamp." Flogg shrugged. "Very big lamp."

"Very big lamp," said Gnogg. He thought that maybe Flogg was on to something there. "How get very big lamp? And much oil?"

"Oil man!" said Mrogg. He jumped up and down. "Big-hair oil-man! He know!" Mrogg leered. "We make oil man squeaaal."

"Oil man!" echoed Flogg and Gnogg. "Get the oil man!"

The sky, which had been getting quite dark, brightened quite suddenly. A blazing brand screamed through the violet air. The bokoblins looked up at it. "Ooh!" Flogg slapped Mrogg on the back. "Lookee, lookee!"

"I see!" shouted Mrogg. He punched Flogg in the face. Flogg fell over, feet and arms stuck into the air. "Not bother Mrogg when he look at falling star!"

"Um," said Gnogg, "It headed this way."

"Not headed this way," said Mrogg. "It headed, um, it headed this way. Run!"

The bokoblins scattered into the treeline.

* * *

 _They let me pick. Did I ever tell you that? Choose whichever Marine I wanted. You know me. I did my research..._

Fifteen thousand feet.

 _Watched you become the soldier we needed you to be. Like the others, you were strong and swift and brave._

Ten thousand feet.

 _A natural leader. But you had something they didn't. Something no one saw… but me. Can you guess?_

Five thousand feet.

 _You're a coldhearted bitch, Lady. Like no other. Was I wrong?_

Falling wasn't so bad, but the sudden stop at the end was rough. Fortunately it was over fast. Trees jumped out of the earth and dove for cover. Sand turned to glass. Stone split. The earth shook.

The Power Suit wasn't made of ordinary metal. It was a Chozo alloy with an unpronounceable name that made adamantium look like warm cheesecake. It had energy shielding, it had kinetic bleeders, it had reactive-gel layers, and it had memory-foam padding. It also had a suite of medical nanobots. Samus landed hard. The suit crunched and collapsed. Her bones ground together. Vital systems shut down, one by one. The suit cannibalized various subsystems to try and survive. Energy cells were broken down, components were stripped from weapon modifications. All the power went to the medical system. It put the woman back together as best it could.

"AAAH!" She screamed as her hips rearranged themselves. Her spinal column creaked, jumped and wiggled, ran straight again. Blood ran down her chin and tears filled her eyes. The mingled and pooled in the bottom of her helmet. She blinked, trying to read the messages scrolling by.

GRAVITY SUIT…..FAILURE

VARIA SUIT….FAILURE

MISSILE SYSTEM….FAILURE

SPACE JUMP…..FAILURE

And so on and so forth, before:

LIFE SUPPORT…..FAILURE

TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE.

POWER SUIT SHUTTING DOWN.

The suit gleamed. Yellow light washed out of every crevice. Most of the armor vanished, converting itself to a high-powered distress signal broadcast on Chozo and Federation emergency bands. Bits and fragments remained. Most of her left gauntlet. A bit around her stomach. She tried to lift herself up. Her arms shook, then gave out. She collapsed into the hot soil. She could just rest a moment, just a bit.

Mrogg poked his head over the lip of the crater. "What that?"

Gnogg and Flogg joined him. They shuffled. "It look like a human," ventured Flogg.

"Not a human!" shouted Mrogg. "Humans not fall from sky. Or they go ka-splat, make mess."

"That look like a mess, Mrogg," Gnogg pointed out. "Trees on fire."

Mrogg couldn't deny that the pines were burning with steadily growing enthusiasm.

"It my sober judgment," declared Mrogg, "that we loot 'n' scoot." He slid down the muddy slope into the crater. The other two followed close behind.

"Not forget rabbits," added Gnogg. The trio scampered to the fallen hunter and began inspecting the scraps of armor attached to her. "Shiny," said Gnogg. "What is?"

"Is _shiny_ ," said Flogg. "Loot 'n' _scoot_ , not loot 'n' _noodle_. You too erudite for own good, Gnogg."

"I take her hat," said Mrogg. He put on the top three-quarters of Samus's helm. "I mighty sky-warrior! Now, run."

"I not get anything good!" whined Gnogg. He pulled the fused lump of Arm Cannon off of Samus's right hand.

"Trees really on fire," Flogg observed. "Time to scoot."

"Scoot!" said Mrogg.

Samus stirred. She got a knee under her and started to push to her feet.

"SCOOT!" shouted Mrogg.


	3. Chapter 3

The Royal Carriage was a marvel of modern engineering. It was armored with a lightweight crossbow-bolt-proof alloy, the glass windows were reinforced with steel wires, it had amenities like an icebox with chilled wine and leather seats.

"We shan't use it," said Zelda flatly. "Find someone on the kitchen staff with roughly our figure. We shall ride with the soldiery," she continued, "in _disguise._ "

Minister Belerand swallowed. No good could possibly come of this. "Disguised as what, your majesty?"

"We have a bit of magic our grandmother taught us. Me, rather, taught me." She shook her head. "Had better get used to the singular. A conjuring trick, really. I haven't tried it before, so... turn around, minister."

"Oui, majesty."

 _Dah-dah-da-do-dah-da-ding_

"Alright, minister - I mean," Zelda forced her voice down a half-octave, " **tell me, minister, how do I look?** "

Belerand turned. Zelda was in the top half of the most flamboyant ninja costume ever. It was formfitted, roughly, with flanges and patches in different shades of gray and blue, and a huge staring eye stapled to her belly. She had a face wrap and rebraided hair, rather worrysome sharp things on her fingertips, and discreet pockets that might hold any sort of surprise. That, and -

"Her majesty requires additional practice with the spell," he said. "You have forgotten your long johns."

"WAAAH!"

* * *

The bridge of the Pirate Cruiser _Hrosfello_ was empty but for one thin figure. The officers excused themselves when XZ-0092, called His Excellency Zharminov, requested to use the communicator. Zharminov was mostly hidden beneath his heavy ragged red robe. It trailed the ground. His legs made clicking noises as he paced. Space Pirates, for those who don't know, look something like giant sci-fi Nazi grasshoppers.

The communicator hummed to life. It was a pale violet panel to the left of the main control surface. Zharminov pressed it.

A hologram of a young Pirate Colonel snapped into focus. The Colonel started and made a blattering sound of shock and surprise. His words, of course, we will translate for you. "Your Excellency – Forgive me, I didn't realize -"

"Report," snapped Zharminov.

The Colonel snapped to attention. "Your Excellency, as per Captain CY-23947's orders, our detachment has made landfall at the Hunter's crash site and is recovering all the wreckage we can find. Kill teams are combing the forest now. As per High Command's standing orders, they intend to shoot on sight."

"Recall them," said Zharminov. "Reequip them with any cryogen weapons available. Dedicate all resources to controlling the forest fire the Hunter started."

"Yes sir," said the Colonel. "Our Kill Teams have more than sufficient environmental protection, Your Excellency." It was a statement, but also a question.

"Indeed they do, but I am not considering their safety. Once the fire is controlled, set up a landing zone and await further instructions. Do not pursue the Hunter and do not, under any circumstances, initiate hostile action against indigenous peoples. Confirm Command."

"Control environmental damage," said the Colonel, "Prep LZ and await further orders. Do not pursue the Hunter or initiate hostile action against indigenous peoples. XZ-level command confirmed."

Zharminov shut down the communicator, giving a siblant _hiss_ of frustration. The moment he did so it hummed back to life. "What now?" he spat.

There was no image, only a dark shape of a man's head and shoulders. It flickered. "That's no way to greet an old friend, Zhar." The voice was a distorted basso rumble.

"At _last._ " Zharminov plopped into the officer's chair. His exoskeleton made a chorus of clicks when his shoulders settled. "Waiting for you felt interminable. I'd begun to wonder if you would get in touch at all, what with the... conditions below."

"You misunderstand the exigencies involved." There was a smirk in the apparition's voice. "As your kind always does."

Zharminov smacked the console. "Don't I know it. I have half-trained _grubs_ throwing good troopers after bad. D'you know that the captain of this vessel plans to invade?"

"Oh my. That would be interesting."

"It would be a gross violation of the Versal Accords." The Pirate shuddered. "I would have the Cornerian Delegation trying to crawl down my throat within hours. Not to mention it put us in conflict with _you_. And there's the nemesis of our species somewhere down there, too. Never mind that she's singlehandedly destroyed entire planets; I'm _sure_ a single Light Cruiser's compliment of troopers can handle her. Ugh!"

"Hah. You sound frustrated. Well, tell your captain he can have all the territory he can hold on to. Makes little difference to me; I had my chance."

"My word!" Zharminov started. "You don't mean to say you were bested?"

"'Fraid so. As I said. He can have all the territory he can _keep_."

* * *

Forest fires travel fast. They eat up the acres.

Samus was running as hard as she could. Her gait was ragged. It wasn't fast enough, the fires were overtaking her. Ahead the trio of small critters were running as fast as they could, too, waving the scraps of armor around and hooting. Hopefully they knew the shortest route -

She sucked in a lungful of smoke.

* * *

"Well," said Zharminov, "It's fortunate I had other business, then."

"Quite. Who is this nemesis you spoke of?"

The Space Pirate leaned back into the bridge chair and clicked his mandibles. "A dreadful mistake made some twenty-odd years ago. A human – mostly human, anyway – who hounds us wherever we go."

* * *

Samus was only unconscious for a second or two. That was enough time for the entire canopy to be ablaze. Hot cinders were falling like orange snowflakes. The goblins were nowhere to be seen. The noise was incredible. It was a monstrous hungry growl punctuated with explosions as pockets of moisture in the trees turned to hot vapor.

Over all this there was a screeching sound, and then great gouts of steam. Samus scrambled away and hid behind a fallen log. The steam hit. Her skin blistered where it touched her face.

* * *

"Aha," the man on the communicator said. "A survivor of some long-forgotten raid, no doubt?"

"Well, yes." Zharminov shook his head. "That's what we think, anyway."

"Vengeful individual, I shouldn't wonder."

* * *

Ice tinkled and cracked. Samus's breath made thin white clouds. Her skin was cracked and bleeding in places, still flushed. Something jabbered. It was a gutteral, meaningless garble of syllables. She risked a quick peek – a Space Pirate, in a light maintenance gear. Even their language was revolting. He used a cryo-beam to chill the flames. He was fiddling with his gun now.

What do do? She was walking wounded, unarmed, and in unfamiliar territory.

Samus Aran smiled. It was time to kill.

On the other side of the clearing, something squeaked. It sounded like one of the goblins. They should have been well away by now – but there was no time to waste. The Pirate whirled, claws open. It stepped forward slowly, scanning for life. Samus knew it probably had a motion-scan alert system. She'd have to move fast. She padded up behind the Pirate.

He did have a motion detector, but it was too late. It beeped right as Samus got her hands on his gun-claw. A quick twist, a snapping sound -

\- Pirate exoskeletons are tougher than human bones, and less brittle. What they don't have is flexibility, and if you bend them the right way, it doesn't matter how hard the keratin is -

\- _crunch_. The Space Pirate shrieked, dropping to the ground. Samus let it fall. It was bigger than her, and if it got on top, things would get difficult. It turned the fall into an awkward roll. It staggered upright, one limb hanging limp and useless. It waved its remaining gun-claw wildly, looking for -

\- but Samus wasn't hiding, she was _right in front of him_ , reaching for his eyes. They were firm and dry, like peaches covered in fish scales. They came out with gasping noises, and a lot of screaming. The Pirate panic-fired blasts of ice, but it was too late. Samus picked up a fallen tree branch. It looked to be just about right. She held it in front of her and pinned the Pirate against a tree, then she gave his wounded arm another good wrench. It came loose. Samus strained against it, and screamed herself. It came free. She set about beating the Pirate to death with it.

* * *

"Oh," said Zharminov, "You have no idea."

* * *

 _A/N: Aaand a very long time since last update. Don't expect consistency from this one, or any of mine. Anyway, hope you're having fun. ~Sunnybutt_


End file.
